


Nonbeliever

by arabot



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Drugs, Gen, Sad, Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 00:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arabot/pseuds/arabot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider can't cope after the game because who would understand? The needle buried in his skin is killing him and that's what he's counting on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nonbeliever

They used to resemble those colorful bugs that Timon and Pumbaa would eat in the movie, Lion King. You know, the ones that you wished you could eat, too. But now they look more like maggots and you think that's probably more appropriate because the stuff coming out of that needle is going to be the death of you. Fingers crossed.

The colorful beetles and pill bugs used to make you laugh with their wet eyes and tickling little legs. They made your brain spark in excitement with their explosive, vibrant colors and the symphony of clicking noises that some of the beetles used to make when they would travel up your arms.

After pushing the needle into your delicate veins, you would wait for the beetle orchestra to start up and play your favorite song. But one day, the clicking never started. And you began to notice that there weren't ticklish, tiny legs going up your body anymore. When you glanced down, you found that the pretty critters you loved had been replaced by the stinking maggots who seemed to haunt your very existence. You could see them in the needle after it was already buried beneath your skin. You could see them slinking up your torso, trying to find a soft spot to dig in. You could see them gnawing away at you like you were already a corpse, ready to decompose. You could feel them under your skin and in between your tissue. Sometimes you thought you could feel them crawling on your ribcage and sliding between your guts, but if they managed to carve through your body that deeply, wouldn't you be dead by now? It was a shame that they always stopped before they could do any real damage.

You used to be afraid of the maggots. When you first noticed them chewing and burrowing into your flesh, you panicked and tried to pry them out of you. What were they doing, messing with a body that's obviously still alive? Didn't they know that they were only supposed to feast on the dead, not the living? The blood under your fingernails disguised itself as bits and pieces of the offending creatures and you couldn't get rid of them fast enough. You clawed and scratched until the maggots were gone and there was nothing but oozing blood and torn flesh left to tell the tale of your frightening hallucinations. But it was okay because at least there weren't maggots inside of you anymore.

Then there came the day when you didn't care if the disgusting vermin tore their way into you and called it home. You even began to help them. If maggots ate the dead and they were so stuck on eating you, then you must be dead. Who were you to stop them from doing their job? So with that new found acceptance of the fact that you were not only dead on the inside, but on the outside too, you began to assist the maggots. You picked them up by the handfuls and guided them to your softest, most vulnerable spots. Your face and stomach were their favorites, but you liked when they found purchase in your chest because you always hoped they would finally break through to your heart and destroy something vital. Maybe then you could cease to move altogether and someone besides the maggots would recognize you as being truly dead.

Your skin resembled a map of the city. The streets marked in deep scratches, the houses and buildings were the infected scabs that never healed, and the highways were the dark lines of your veins showing just beneath the surface of the skin yet to be broken.

Maggots sat behind your eyes and you could see the world as an ugly dying thing, just like they did. You could feel maggots hidden in your cheeks and gums and they made you smile no matter what and the smile resembled that of a skull's. The maggots in your nose ensured that you only smelled rot, but maybe that's how everything smelled, maggots or not. The maggots in your ears whispered of death and decay and they told you secrets that should have been taken to the grave. You prayed that there would come a day when you and your death-eating comrades finally stopped that poor black, shriveled thing that once resembled a heart.

You saved the world, but so what? You won the game, but was it enough to make up for all the things you lost along the way? Your lips were sewn shut and you were forced into silence because they couldn't understand what you did for them, so how could you begin to explain? You gave up everything, including your sanity, and for what? You're nothing but a fallen god surrounded by nonbelievers.


End file.
